


Flames

by FlatlandDan



Series: Burning Bright [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It gets better, despite Clint’s best efforts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to dizmo for the quick beta read and to all who are still reading this for your patience. I injured my shoulder and pectoral muscles so typing was really off the cards until now. 
> 
> One more part to go :)

It gets better, despite Clint’s best efforts.

He starts to feel the days flow around him, a happy mix of Phil, archery and Avengers. He still has appointments with medical, they’re unhappy with his weight and tell him to eat anything he wants whenever he wants it (he doesn’t know he wants his mom’s apple crumble until that moment). Bruce makes lasagna instead, enough to feed a small army which is about the amount that Clint tries to eat. They still do group breakfasts, but dinners are quieter times usually between two people, or three people, or Phil and himself which while technically two people are so much more than that.

It’s three months later and he’s standing on a roof, watching. His quiver feels tight against his back and his heart is thumping in his chest as he watches the fight from a distance. It’s not a safe distance, nowhere is safe when they’re at work (nowhere is safe except his floor) but he’s far enough away that he can see the patterns and right now, that’s all they want him to do. He has his weapons to defend himself, strictly speaking, but that doesn’t stop him from taking a few pot shots when things get close enough.

If he had to describe it, the feeling of the last few months, it would be like having an out of body experience. The psychologist says it’s because he’s compartmentalising, put up barriers between himself and the memories, but he says that’s wrong. He doesn’t want to forget. She shrugs and smiles sadly, tells him that sometimes the mind just does things despite what a person wants. He says their names every night now, theirs and the Avengers because he doesn’t want to compartmentalise anyone, doesn’t want to forget his months on the side of the mountain, the smiling faces or the blood stained walls.

He’s feeling better because he’s feeling useful again, the sleeping pills are working their magic, he wakes up to Phil’s music playing in his living room and falls asleep to him muttering about report quality with glasses perched on his nose. It has nothing to do with forgetting.

“How’s it going up there, Eye in the Sky?” It’s his new, temporary they assure him, codename for missions. Another element of compartamentalisation, his brain supplies, but at least this one has been supplied by the rest of the team. He’ll be Hawkeye again when he can enter the fray but until that point they want to make him seem small and far away from the actual events. Not that you are! Steve almost panics when he realises what he’s suggested but Clint just nods along. He doesn’t particularly feel like Hawkeye and Eye in the Sky is kinda cool. Thor calls him Skyeye.

“All good, Iron Man. A small batch moving to your left but I think Thor has his eye on them.”

“He always has his eye on potential mayhem.”

“SHIELD wants to know if they’re clear to come in and test of R&D.” Steve’s voice cuts through the banter and Clint scans the scene in front of him.

“Just mopping up from my view.”

“Roger that, Eye in the Sky. They’re deploying from the north end of contact so let us know what to expect so we don’t send Hulk to smash it.”

“SHIELD not telling you what they’re sending it?”

“They claim it’s defensive” Clint doesn’t buy that and judging from Steve’s voice he doesn’t either. He shifts slightly so that the north side is further in his line of sight.

Five minutes later a tank comes rumbling out of the Holland tunnel and his mind goes blank.

* * *

He wakes up in his bed, Bon Jovi playing softly from his living room and a note propped up under his lamp. Everything is fine.

Everything is most assuredly not fine. He doesn’t remember how he got home and his mind feel funny, the way it did during training when he spent a month learning the effects of various sedatives. His mouth tastes funny and his mind usefully supplies chloroform. He absolutely doesn’t want to get out of bed and isn’t entirely sure he can move.

“Hey Phil” he mumbles, knowing full well his room is miked. The music in the other room stops and his door opens. Phil looks tired, more tired than usual, but he doesn’t look angry.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus and it took a shit in my mouth.” Phil smiles at that and Clint chalks up one small victory over the day.

“It turns out you have a bit of a vendetta against tanks.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“SHIELD was.” Clint sighs and burrows himself a little further into his pilllow, it’s the most he can control his body. Phil sighs as well, moving away from the doorway to flop down on the bed beside Clint. They’ve both staring at the ceiling, at the clouds moving through the skylight, and Clint doesn’t know what to say for the longest time. It turns out he doesn’t have to say anything because by the time he formulates an appropriate sentence (Was anyone hurt? God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’ve been so patient and I’m still so fucked up) Phil is sleeping. His face is smooth when Clint looks over and for a minute Clint holds his breath and tries not to wreck anything. Of course he does, Phil’s eyes flicker open and meet his. “Don’t do that, Barton.” Phil reaches over and grabs his shoulder, pulling him in so Clint is half sprawled over his chest.  
“Did I...”

“No. The vehicle performed perfectly. You shot two explosive arrows into it and set it on fire before deciding to try to enter and incapacitate the crew. As a point of professional pride, you were damn close before the sedatives kicked in and the thing was designed to be Hulk proof. He could barely move it a foot.”

“Hulk went after it?”

“He decided that killing it would make you happy. It would have been endearing if I wasn’t fucking terrified about collateral damage.”

“You should sleep.”

“Only if you do.” Clint pretends for ten minutes before the weight gets too much for him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what it’s worth, so if Fury. So is everyone.” Phil’s voice sounds sleepy and Clint knows he should leave it at that. When he wakes up again he knows there will be appointments, some disguised as breakfasts and some more formal, and then it’ll all come out into the open.

“I’m still sorry.”

“You’re an Avenger. The fact that you’ve still trying to avenge what happened on that mountain doesn’t surprise anyone. Do you want me to make an appointment with Father MacRae?”

“No.” Clint’s voice surprises even himself. “I don’t think I’ll find what I need there.”

“We’ll keep looking.” Phil pats Clint lightly on his shoulder and Clint listens to his breathing even out, let’s his own synch up. Abraham. Anna. Grandma Maria. Ezekiel. Thomas. Alison. Steve. Tony. Bruce. Thor. Natasha. Phil.

* * *

“You fucking rocked!” Clint isn’t the least bit surprised that Tony is happily waving a piece of bacon in his direction the following morning, his face lit up like he’s been given a new piece of tech.

“Tony!” Steve hisses. “It was great to see him shooting things again but that was the worst possible way for that to happen.”

“No. Absolutely not. SHIELD wants to test tech in the field they should damn well be prepared for this. It’s not like they couldn’t have expected this to happen.”

“Because any of us expected this to happen?”

“I did.” Bruce mumbles to Clint, putting two eggs on his plate as Clint sits down next to Tasha. She smiles and butts his shoulder lightly with hers as Steve and Tony continue to argue across from them. He’s stopped minding months ago that his mental health is usually a topic of conversation. Everyone’s mental health is, it’s just part of their morning thing, like Thor’s sex life and Tony’s bots and the girl who works at the MoMA cafe Steve has a crush on. What he loves most about breakfast is that him having to be sedated to stop trying to destroy a friendly tank is barely a blip.

“Everyone who makes decisions like that has seen the footage, they should know what the lead up was.” The silence following Tony’s words slices through his little cocoon and he looks up from his plate.

“Footage?” They have the grace to look guilty.

“SHIELD sent a satellite over your location when massive movement was detected. It’s got pretty good pictures of what happened in the village.” Tasha is matter of fact about it, her hands not stopping making the perfect bite sized combination of eggs, toast and ham on her plate.

“And after I left the village?” No one speaks. No one dares. He looks at Phil and see the most resigned look he’s seen in a while. “Do you have footage of the house?”

“Not until you made contact with us.” He digests Phil’s words before forcing himself to continue.

“How good is the footage?”

“No.”

“Phil, it’s my choice.”

“No. You’re not watching that footage.”

“It’s his choice.” Clint nods, happy to have Tony on his side for this one. The man will get him the footage even if Phil says no.

“You’re not watching the footage because it doesn’t exist on the servers. It doesn’t exist in hard copy, it doesn’t exist anywhere. I spent three weeks making sure that every trace of it was gone and you can be damn well sure I did a good job. You can go back to the place if you want, but it won’t be on a monitor. Hate me for that if you want, but I won’t let you do that to yourself.” Phil’s voice is hard and his hands are gripping the table, signs that Clint can recognise as stress. He wants to push this, wants to say that Phil had no right to take that choice away from him, but he can’t bring himself to yell. He’s been trying but Phil, Phil has been doing. Bit by bit Phil is putting together a life for him and he knows that if he yells now Phil would take it. Phil would take it and would still bring his reports to bed, still reach over in the night when he knows Clint is awake and twine their fingers together. The silence is stretching like the morning sunlight over Central Park he sees on his run but knows to let it warm him. This silence is because everyone at the table cares for him, in their own way.

“Ok.” He says, reaching for the pepper. The collective exhale and Phil’s small smile reassures him that he’s made the right choice.

“I thought I might head to the Natural History Museum, check out that Journey to the Stars show.” Bruce says hopefully. If there is anyone who knows how to defuse a stressful situation, it’s Bruce.

“Yeah, today totally feels like a Whoopi Goldberg day.” Tony says with a nod. Soon they’re all into going, Thor delighted at the idea of a planetarium and Steve delighted when he’s told that the main building hasn’t really changed. Clint watches Phil mechanically eat breakfast in front him, watches his shoulder slowly relax, watches him get drawn into a conversation about the giant blue whale, and wonders if it’s possible for either of them to go back to before and if better will ever be good.


End file.
